The Luck of the Bride (The Cavensham Heiresses #3)(56)
“What types of things did she share about her callers, my lord?” Julia set her cutlery aside and gave him her undivided attention.
He leaned back in his chair and studied the ceiling. “I don’t recall her ever discussing any man. She mostly talked about politics and women’s roles within society.”
“How silly my musings must sound.” She shyly dipped her head and bit her lip as if censured. “I apologize for not curbing my tongue.”
He briefly regarded March and Faith as if begging for help. “Julia … I didn’t mean that as a criticism. I was describing my darling sister’s personality.”
Faith leaned forward and patted Julia’s hand. “Dearest, we should probably get ready. Lady Somerton and Lady Daphne will be here shortly to take us shopping.”
March wouldn’t let her littlest sister suffer either. “Julia, your excitement is perfectly normal for a young woman enjoying her first Season. I dare say if I’d experienced your success, I’d be a prattling fool. No need to feel embarrassed.”
Lord William smiled down the table. “Indeed. It’s a joy to have you and your sisters here. You bring a vibrancy to Langham Hall that’s been missing since Emma married Somerton. I wouldn’t have you change a single thing about yourself.”
Perhaps it was the words or the way he said it so warmly, but immediately Julia’s disquiet lifted. She was back to her happy self again. With a nod and a smile, she took her leave with Faith. March stayed and continued to enjoy her tea and toast in relative silence.
William placed his paper down on the table and studied her. Not with the usual air of interest, but with something that set her on edge, as if slipping on a rocky slope and waiting for the inevitable fall. In response, she straightened her shoulders and stared in challenge.
His gaze pierced hers as if he studied her every mistake and misdeed. After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke. “I was hoping you might share with me your circumstances at Lawson Court before my brother petitioned the court for guardianship.”
The question took her by surprise, as she’d assumed Michael told his brother everything. The two were inordinately close. Practically every day they were together. Michael had even shared that when he traveled to McCalpin Manor, William usually joined him.
The attending footmen quietly gathered the used plates and then left the room. March placed her hands in her lap to quell the sudden nervousness. She despised having to relate how she and her family had lived in abject poverty for so long. Nevertheless, as Michael and his family had been so generous and loving toward hers, she didn’t want to keep anything hidden, particularly after the way William had first met her with the fruits of her embezzling spread before him like a proverbial feast.
“I had five pounds left to manage the estate for the next six months. The house had suffered severe damage during a storm along with our one and only tenant who suffered as much, if not more, damage than we did.” She gathered enough courage to share the rest. “When your brother came to discover our circumstances, I was at my wits’ end. It was horrifying.”
“Why? What were you afraid he’d discover?” His voice was pleasant, but there was a hint of skepticism in his drawl.
“How poor we actually are,” she murmured, then corrected herself. “How poor we actually were. When he found me, I’d been trying to capture some sheep we’d lost, and…” She forced herself to meet his gaze. “I was injured in the process. Michael—the marquess—was very kind and helped me back to the house.” She took a deep breath for fortitude, but the old familiar humiliation started to rise, much like a dough of bread. The only difference was that the bread could nourish while the humiliation ate her from within. Shameful, burning tears flooded her eyes, but she blinked them away.
“My brother was so delighted there was an actual peer who’d come to ‘visit him’ that he asked your brother to stay for dinner. Everything we had for the week was served that night.”
“Go on.” His voice had lowered.
Oh God, was she really going to share the rest? “It’s humiliating.”
“I won’t judge you, March.”
“But you want to, don’t you?” she whispered. Where had such a spiteful comment come from? He hadn’t said anything to warrant such a hateful response.
“No, I want to know what McCalpin has gotten himself into. I need to know what he’s facing by helping you.”
“Fair enough.” She swallowed, but her disgrace had lodged in her throat like a brick. “Bennett’s cat brought in a freshly killed rabbit, and my brother joyfully related how it would be our dinner the next night.”
His face froze, except for the slight tightening of his jaw muscles.
“Bennett asked if the marquess wanted to eat with us again.” This time she laughed in defense of all her failures.
“Did you eat the hare?” he whispered.
Finally, she gathered the courage to face his condemnation. Whether she was twenty-four as McCalpin thought or her true age of twenty-five made little difference. She was unable to keep her family safe and fed. Nothing William could say would make her feel any worse about herself than she already did. “Yes. In a stew the next night.”
He didn’t have a response, but the shock on his face wasn’t something she’d likely forget in her lifetime.